It was dark.

It was really dark.

No moon hung in the sky like a giant shiny pebble, illuminating the streets of the city. Smog obliterated the stars and for once it was actually peaceful. The bars and clubs had long since shut early morning slowly becoming dawn with hardly any cars on the roads yet. Nothing was moving, no one was screaming, nothing was happening.

Bliss.

But far from there in an overgrown graveyard Dean and Sam Winchester were digging up a grave. After all, what else would they be digging up?

The night was deadly still apart from the occasional grunt as another shovel of dirt was hoisted into the air and shoved aside. Somewhere an owl hooted. Then there was a rustle and a crinkle and then...

BANG.

Dean almost leapt into the air and Sam let out a yelp. They scrambled out of the grave, for six foot of dirt's a bitch to move weapons drawn scanning the darkness.

Nanny was leant against a box grave, a packet of now open trail mix in her hand. "Are you alright dears?"

Heart pounding madly in his chest Dean swore loudly.

Sam stared at her raising his arms as if asking the heavens for an answer. Of course it was nothing more than an ingrained habit. Heaven hadn't answered for a while now.

"Boys," Nanny shook her head. "That's a quarter for the swear jar both of you," she placed one hand on her hip. "I heard you use that God of Castiel's name in vain Samuel Winchester don't you deny it."

Dean raised his eyebrows. "Swear jar? I thought you were waiting in the car. And where the hell's the angel?"

"Would you like some Sam?" she offered him the bag. "I know you like your healthy food. I'm trying to be healthy me. Oh I have wet wipes in my bag just hold on-"

Sam wiped a sweat stained brow with a grubby hand. "Where's Cas?"

"I thought you boys would want something to eat by the time you were finished, I sent him to look for something fried. You two do eat fries don't you?"

"We're in the middle of freaking nowhere," reminded Dean angrily shouldering his shovel.

Nanny nodded happily. "He looked sad. The walk will do him good. Nuts?" she raised her eyebrows suggestively as she offered him the packet.

The men resumed digging.

As they salted the bones a massive beast of a man appeared wrenching Dean backwards. Dropping his shot gun he struggled as the hands wrapped around his neck squeezing the life out of him.

Sam continued to pour gasoline into the grave desperately fumbling for the matchbox.

A salt bullet hit the spirit in the back. He faltered enough to drop the older brother hard to the ground. Sam knew he heard a pop over the roar of fury.

"Get your filthy hands of my boy!"

BA-BOOM.

The second shot and the drop of a match. Bursting into flames the ghost disappeared with a satisfying crackle.

Nanny span, shotgun still at the ready, held lose in one hand. Sam hit the floor.

Cautiously standing, wincing as he did, Dean approached one hand raised. "Right. Just...careful with that thing!"

She lowered it. "Oh this? Did I use it right?" the 'I'm just a little old lady' voice was back. She passed it to him. "Oh that shoulder looks dislocated. Want me to put it back?"

"How the hell did you get in here?" demanded Sam squinting at her. "We had to climb the gate!"

"Oh I just gave it a little push," she told them. "Well take off that t-shirt or do you want your brother to raise the dead?"

After stripping Sam of his thread bare shirt, commenting on his excellent muscle tone and forcing Dean to bite down on it (later Sam would ask why a belt wouldn't have sufficed) she proceeded to force the shoulder back into its socket and grinned as even Sam's eyes watered.

When Castiel returned to the Impala he found Nanny in good spirits. Of course she was always in good spirits.

Sam had expected greasy fries and tried to remember the last time he'd eaten something that was actually considered food. Endless strings of cardboard boxes and cheap drinks took their toll. The last time he actually ate a home cooked meal had to be-

"I found a place," said the angel.

Nanny nodded. "And where might this be?"

"Three miles from here, I walked."

"And now," she smiled encouragingly, "now you fetch them."

The angel was gone.

Dean stared at her. "You do realise that God's messengers are not delivery boys."

"Oh he's getting there," she sighed fondly.

"I can't believe-" Sam began.

Nanny folded her arms and raised her nose haughtily. "Well neither of you need to have any then do you?"

"Well-"

She shushed him with her pinky. "Nope. You two can just carry on with whatever else you were going to do tonight. Don't mind me and Castiel. We won't disturb you. I asked him to get you one of those burgers Dean dear, well four actually, once each. You do eat meat don't you Sam? Well me and him'll just have to eat them ourselves."

"I didn't say that!" objected Sam.

The angel returned.

Then promptly left again.

"Did you really need ketchup?" asked Sam. "Really?"

Nanny nodded happily chewing a fry. "Can't have fries without ketchup. Sacrilegious or something."

Neither brother could protest anymore, for the angel had returned. This time he had enough ketchup to stock a nation. Nanny pocketed the spare ones and passed a few sachets of salt to Dean.

"Never know when it might come in useful."

"Something was stolen from each victim?" asked Nanny nibbling an apple.

Dean glanced up from the paper cuttings. "Yeah."

Sam nodded. "Strange. But all of it screams vampire. Maybe they were trying to make it look like some sort of twisted murder and crime of opportunity."

Dean nodded swallowing. "Right. We'll take it. But you dare get me bitten to find the nest and the first throat I rip out will be yours."

"Boys," warned Nanny. "What did I say? If you can't say anything nice then," she paused until it became clear that neither was going to finish the sentence. "Then don't say anything at all."

"Two deaths so far," Sam swivelled the screen. "Drained with teeth marks. Three missing people. Some reporter noted that both victims, both female, were bitten in different places. One in the inner thigh one at the neck."

Dean frowned. "Why?"

"Efficiency dear," Nanny said. "Two best places to get a lot of blood quick."

Dean shuddered.

"It looks like a very small nest," Sam said turning the laptop back to himself. "In fact I'd say two or three. Which is why they're taking people. From what I gathered there have been no vamp kills here at all. So I'm thinking a few vamps coming here, trying to set up home. If we start out now we can get there by tomorrow morning. That gives us a whole day to find the nest."

"Should be an easy hunt," Dean smiled reassuringly.

"And your friend Cas will join us later will he?" from what she gathered he wasn't going to heaven but he wasn't there and neither brother volunteered anything as to his whearabouts. So as tactful as always she broached the subject as if she had no clue of all the tension that it caused. Nanny nodded as she stood. "This is nice; the two of you, finally acting like brothers again."

"We've always acted like brothers," snapped Sam. "Just because we want different things-"

"Too right," agreed Dean. "I mean, yeah, he's a bitch, but come on, he's my brother."

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

"Fifty cents each," prompted Nanny fishing around for her swear jar.

Dean sighed. But emptying his pockets he surrendered his fifty cents, all the money he had on him. Watching Sam smirk he elbowed him hard in the ribs prompting that he do the same.

Dean was glad there was no one watching. Anyone who wasn't family wouldn't be welcome in the room. Heck he didn't even want Sammy in the room.

Damn it, he thought but didn't say. He didn't want to give her two quarters. He shouldn't feel he had to. It wasn't that he didn't want to. That was the problem. He was not a wild cat domesticated, which was exactly what he felt like.

Taking a swig of beer he swung his bag over his shoulders, flinched instinctively at the muscle memory of the dislocation taking hold. Then he held his hand out for Nanny's bag and made a face at Sam's retreating bag, the wimp not carrying anything but his own gear.

Dean separated from Sam in the first warehouse they'd decide to investigate as 'prime places for vampire cribs'. Despite what Sam said the cynical part of him had a lot of trouble trusting him where vampires were concerned.

It had become clear that Nanny was not going to stay in the motel. Especially after Dean had found her in the front seat of the Impala when they tried to sneak away. Sam had now officially been demoted to the backseat once again.

They reached a compromise. When Cas was back she could come with them. They dropped her off in the town before continuing on to more desolate places. Dean couldn't help but worry about letting the old woman loose.

Partially for her safety and partially for any civilians standing too near her.

Shaking all distraction from his head he continued his search of the second floor while Sam checked out the first. An hour and a half later they'd found no sign of vampires or anything supernatural unless you counted an abnormal amount of spider webs.

"Nanny'd say the place needed dusting," commented Sam.

Dean laughed. "Next one's literally two minutes from here."

With Sam studying a map of the city in his lap and Dean answering the phone will driving they almost passed the place. Dean's heart leapt to his throat. The phone had been strictly emergencies.

"You both like garlic don't you?"

Dean had to answer before hanging up. He just had to.

The building was gated. The two visible windows bricked up. Dean had a machete in his hand and a shotgun in the other before Sam had even clambered out of the car. Passing the machete to Sam they scaled the gate instead of bothering with the numerous locks.

The linger stench of decaying meat hung in the air near the boarded door.

"They don't usually put up a sign that says 'we're here' do they?" Dean asked quietly.

Sam nodded. Then took a step into the darkness.

Dean took one last breath of fresh air stepped inside and found stack upon stack of boxes. Sam was nowhere in sight.

"Damn," he breathed and stepped around one pile. He jogged along one row, peering up at the top of the stacks and resisted the urge to call out. He rounded one corner and heard a grunt then a crash.

Dean glanced up before the boxes caved in upon him and rushed forwards barely avoiding the cascade.

Sam cried out, his voice echoing through the warehouse.

Dean darted left then right, sending more boxes rolling. They were piled high to the roof and the effect was like dominoes.

Curling in on himself so that he wasn't crushed he hit the ground beneath their weight.

"Dean!"

Something sharp had cut his forehead, he'd hit the floor pretty hard. Great, thought Dean. Demons, vampires, monsters, the King of Hell himself? No a bunch of cardboard boxes and wooden crates'll kill Dean Winchester.

Dragging himself up onto his elbows he began to crawl.

"Dean!"

Swearing silently he forced himself onwards. Sammy was getting rusty. You never call out your companion hunter's name. It gives them ammo.

But that didn't stop him. It spurred him onwards clutching the shot gun to his side.

He felt his phone vibrate against his leg. Probably Nanny. Gods he hoped she wouldn't take his not answering as a signal to get herself over there. He was glad he'd set it to vibrate.

I'm sorry, he apologised.

Reducing his wheeze to a mere whine he rolled his shoulders and rose from the boxes like a phoenix from ashes.

He was pretty sure one of the boxes with sharp edges, one of the wooden ones, had hit him on the head because it was spinning like a merry go round. But he was damned if a wooden crate was going to do him in.

If Dean Winchester died he'd die like he was born, screaming and bathed in blood.

Not while Sammy needed him.

Author's note: So what do you think? Bearing in mind that us mere mortals in the UK have only had three episodes of Season 8 yet what's it like? Disclaimer: I own a trench coat according to my mother that's not the same as owning Castiel. You get the drift.

Thanks for reading my humble readers~

Natalie River